


Not For Smoothskins

by BridgeFromTV



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 09:53:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6047238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BridgeFromTV/pseuds/BridgeFromTV
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loosely follows the game, with more focus on the interpersonal relationships and also lots of "what happens during the down time" stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hope In A Storage Locker

**Author's Note:**

> Please Note: I do take some liberties as far as manipulating the in-game quest order and things of that nature. It saves time. :)

The nuclear sun burned up the atmosphere, noticeably green at the edges. It still turned William’s stomach every time he looked at it. His brown skin felt the sickly warmth, but his mind couldn’t let go of the numbing cold of the cryo-chamber. Sometimes he still saw the ring of frost in his vision, even when the sun beat angry and orange down on the wasteland.

“Charmer! We just standing around?” Hancock’s gravelly voice broke William out of his train of thought. He leaned against the side of a rusted car, shotgun slung over one shoulder. He shielded his eyes from the light with the brim of his hat. Will half-turned and smiled at him.

“Impatient one,” he said under his breath, grabbing his pack from the desert floor and slinging it over his shoulder. He scrolled around on his pip-boy, double-tapping Vault 81’s location. The pip-boy chirped. He took one more glance at the irate afternoon sun, then hoisted his rifle into the crook of his arm.

“What’s so important that we gotta go hang out in the storage locker anyway?” It wasn’t any secret that Hancock disliked the vaults.

“Gwen asked for a few more fusion cores, they’re burning them up pretty quick.” Freshly armed with hazmat suits and rifles, the folks of Vault 81 were working on getting the secret half of their vault cleaned out and renovated, and needed more power to do so. William was more than happy to help.

The cracked and broken road gave way to the wild wastes, where the terrain was growing wooded and hilly, which provided a bit more cover, but their line of sight was severely reduced. Just as easily as they could move unseen through the trees, so could an enemy. It made Will edgy. Instead of their usual chatter, they travelled in silence for a mile or so, pausing every once in a while to scope out the terrain. For a while, they crouched on the edge of a known mole rat colony, moving on when they were certain that the beasts were asleep. A group of raiders had set up in a broken house, which they skirted expertly. As William settled into the routine, and with Hancock at his side, he began to relax.

Strange, golden light lit the sky between the trees as the sun began to set, casting everything in yellow. It looked like autumn. While they were in the woods, away from signs of the dead world, William could almost pretend that none of this had happened. Well…with the exceptions of the colonial ghoul that travelled beside him.

“Have you ever seen pictures of the trees all coloured?” Will asked, glancing back at his companion. The ghoul shook his head.

“I’ll find you one,” he said, looking up at the gold-streaked sky wistfully, “It was the most beautiful time. The whole world would be orange and red, like it was on fire. It was like, one final campaign before they all fell. Like they refused to go quietly.”

“Fancy talk,” Hancock replied, glancing away. He readjusted his grip on his shotgun. Still, he paused a moment, his dark eyes scanning the bare tree tops. William wished (not for the first time) that he could have shown his friend the world before, how it was _supposed_ to be. But, for now, a picture would have to suffice.

Very suddenly, the vault rose up before them, pressed deep into the side of a rather large hill. They cleared the surrounding area, then entered the cave. It was always strange to watch the vault open and walk across the platform. For a moment, William felt as if he was walking up the metal stairs with Kate and Shaun in tow, fear pressing on his back. But they were gone. The fear wasn’t.

Gwen McNamara was waiting at the end of the long walkway, smiling. She hugged Will tightly when he pushed past the security gate, then enthusiastically shook Hancock’s hand.

“Just a warning, most of these people haven’t actually seen a ghoul before, might earn you some glances.”

“I appreciate the thought,” Hancock replied, looking around cautiously. Something in his movements spoke softly of malcontent, but William doubted that he’d be inclined to share. They’d only been travelling together for the better part of two weeks, and the ghoul was more reserved than most.

After Gwen took the fusion cores and gave them to a security officer for delivery, she took William and Hancock to the elevator and into the main vault. On the way to the diner, they didn’t pass many people, but while they were seated and eating, at least six people came up to William to thank him for this, that, or the other. All of them were polite, if somewhat apprehensive of his companion. 

“You’re a regular celebrity around here,” Hancock said after yet another vault dweller had come to speak to them. He’d been watching the vault dwellers critically from under the brim of his hat, his dark eyes narrowed. He’d been watching William, too.

“I just helped out, is all. I guess not many topsiders do.”

“Generally speaking, most ‘topsiders’ are in it for themselves. I can…see where these people are coming from. You actually care about helping them,” Hancock replied, shifting his weight uncomfortably. He poked at the soupy casserole on his plate, decidedly unsure of himself. Will eyed him curiously, but set about finishing off his own dinner. When he was done, he stood, glancing at Hancock with doubt in his green eyes.

“I need to go talk to Gwen before we leave, you alright here?” he asked, arching a brow. Hancock glanced up at him, but nodded, setting his jaw. He wasn’t happy about it, but what else was there to do? Will clapped him on the back and started up the stairwell, heading for Gwen’s quarters.

Along the way, he met familiar faces, smiling and waving to those he recognised. It was nice, being involved in a community again. But he was acutely aware that these people, in the vault, were running on borrowed time. One day they’d _have_ to leave. They’d have no choice. He’d offered – multiple times, in fact – to help them in making a topside settlement. He’d told Gwen about all the work he’d done at Sanctuary Hills, about how he could help them in the same way. But she wouldn’t hear it.

When he arrived at her door, his face was already all screwed up with worry. She took one glance at him and heaved a sigh. The door swung open for him, and he trotted inside, bashful under Gwen’s stern gaze. Before he could say anything, she held up a hand, shaking her head. The door closed with a sharp _click_.

“It’s time for me to repay a debt,” she began, crossing to her desk. A stack of papers sat on the corner, neatly clipped together. She ran her fingers over them, her gaze still on Will, a strange hesitation in her movements.

“These are short-wave radio transmissions we’ve encountered over the past two weeks. They might lead you to the Railroad.”

Will’s breath hitched. He crossed the room and scooped up the packet, already scanning the lines of text. They mentioned codes, dead drops, meetings. He wasn’t all too sure of what to do with it just yet, but he’d damn well figure it out. Finding the Railroad put him one step closer to finding the Institute, which put him one step closer to his son.

“Tha-Thanks,” he managed, flipping through the pages almost desperately, as if one of them would just tell him where Shaun was. No such luck. Not that he’d expected it, but a tiny part of him had hoped. He shook his head a little, trying to clear up his thoughts, but only then realising that his vision had blurred with tears.

“We’ll keep monitoring, see what else shakes loose. Come back next week, yeah?”

Will nodded. He’d wanted to talk about taking a few of the younger folks from the vault, getting them set up in a nearby settlement, but the resolve was gone now, swept away by the pages in front of him. He let Gwen shuffle him out of her office, down the corridor, and out of the main hall. He waved her off, for good measure, turning down the walkway to start downstairs.

“Whatcha got there?”

Will spun, surprised to see Hancock leaning against the railing. He must have walked right past him. Heat coloured his freckled cheeks.

“Sorry, H. Um, it’s probably nothing. We’ll talk about it back at the Sanctuary, yeah?” He quickly folded up the papers and stuffed them into his hip pouch, acutely aware of Hancock’s vigilant gaze. But thankfully, he simply nodded and stood upright, following Will through the maze of corridors that led to the elevator.

As the door to the slow-moving box closed shut and the elevator jolting to a start, Hancock cleared his throat pointedly. He didn’t like to wait.

“Railroad information, maybe. It’s in code.” Will shook his head. “Don’t-just don’t tell anyone else. If it’s a dead end-” He trailed off as the elevator came to a halt and opened onto the vault platform. Ahead, the door was already opening. It turned William’s stomach to watch.

Hancock simply grunted and started ahead, pausing only when he stepped onto the walkway. Will followed, his eyes unfocused. He was pouring over the possibilities in his head, trying to make sense and make plans. Contingency plans. Contingency plans of his contingency plans. What if’s.

Luckily, at least one of them was focused. Almost blindly, William followed Hancock, his eyes never leaving his friend’s boot heels. The gun on his back thumped his shoulder with every step, further lulling him into his thoughts. But suddenly, the boot heels stopped.

“Will!” Hancock growled, already diving behind cover. Will’s mind suddenly snapped back into focus, just in time to hear the ear-splitting _POW!_ of a rifle and feel the searing, fiery punch of a bullet. His leg crumpled under him like a twig, and his head cracked into the dusty ground. Gunfire rang all around him, and his head swam. He blinked, and his mind went dark.


	2. Still

_CRACK!_

The peal of a grenade shocked William awake. He rolled onto his stomach, subtly aware that he had been dragged behind cover. His face felt rubbed raw and his head pounded. Hancock held steady on the hood of a broken car, watching for assailants. The dust settled and a very strange hush flooded their ears, as if the grenade had created a vacuum to suck the sound out of the world.

“How’s your ass?” Hancock growled quietly, his gaze still fixed through the scope of his rifle. It was only then that Will remembered the searing heat in his thigh, compounded by the warm spread of blood. The nuclear dust couldn’t hide the smell either – it made his whole mouth taste of rust. He fought gagging as he dug through his pack, pulling out a stimpak. Without a word, he jabbed the needle into his leg, depressing the plunger.

“It’s my head I’m worried about,” Will replied, yanking out the needle and tossing it behind them. His headache lessened a bit, but he could feel through his short stubble that his scalp had split, letting a trickle of blood flow down his neck.

“Ditto,” Hancock replied, daring to look away from the scope. Will felt heat colour his cheeks again, this time in embarrassment. How could he let himself get so caught up in his thoughts that he’d entirely disregarded the nature of the wasteland? It was one more reminder that he truly was pre-war.

“Let’s keep going. Keep your wits about you.” Hancock’s voice was clipped and Will got the feeling that he was angry. He heaved a sigh and retrieved his rifle from the dirt, then clambered to his feet. His leg was stiff. But he kept up as they quietly traversed the wooded landscape, thankful for the cover of dusk.

It was dark before they reached the bridge to Sanctuary, and luckily, Preston was there to greet them. He glanced at Will with a raised brow, but shrugged when he waved him off. He knew that his friend could deal with a minor injury, even one that gave him a temporary gimp. He flashed a smile at Hancock.

“Thanks for having my back,” Will said as they walked down the road, up to the cul-de-sac where Will had built his hovel. Flood lights illuminated the area, carefully placed to reflect back into the settlement. From his doghouse, Dogmeat gave a little _boof_ and wagged his tail.   
Will opened to door to his hovel, but just as he stepped inside, he felt something grab his coat and slam him into the wall. An iron grip on his shoulder spun him around, slamming his back hard against the sheet metal.

“If you ever-” Hancock snarled, pinning Will to the wall with his elbow, “-do that again, I’ll shoot you myself!” He shivered, his eyes narrowed to slits. Will leaned his head back against the wall, a curl playing at the corner of his mouth. Hancock’s knee pressed hard against his bullet wound, but the pain was washed away by the laughter that tickled his tongue. Slowly, he brought his hand up to give Hancock’s hat a tug.

“You,” he said, letting the grin show, “Were scared.”

Hancock’s features widened in surprise before he took two steps back and glared at Will. After a moment, he threw his hands up and turned away, digging through his coat pockets and crossing to sit on the corner of Will’s bed.

“Never let it be said that John Hancock doesn’t care,” Will said, “Lesson learned, won’t happen again.” He heaved a sigh and straightened up, going to sit at his desk. His back was toward Hancock, but he easily heard the _hiss_ and quick draw of the Jet inhaler behind him. Putting it out of his mind, he returned to the task at hand – the radio code. He pulled the papers out, smoothing them with his rough hands. Luckily, no blood had stained them. It would have ruined the ink. He fished his glasses out of the desk drawer and put them on, acutely aware that he was being watched. He started reading over the pages carefully.

_Hiss._ Another sharp inhale.

“Yeah, Charmer, you scared me.”


End file.
